I’m sensing Half Term might be the killer of my creativity, time and space are short, but we shall see, I shall be optimistic, I shall. We got home from a lovely time away at lunchtime today. Since then we’ve been roundly punished by son2 for daring to go away. He’s held it all in for 24 hours of charmingly wonderful behaviour and this afternoon came the safe collapse to let it all out. Sigh. I think it was still worth the 24 hours away from them but we feel a little bit battered as we drink our tea and put them to bed tonight.

And so, instead of any profound thoughts from me, here’s one of my favourite quotes from one of my favourite men who died this week. Eugene Peterson has been an inspiration of mine ever since I started out in this Christian Ministry thing about 19 years ago. His books on being in pastoral work are astounding. He felt like a lone voice in the wilderness calling people away from results orientated ministry to a long obedience of loving and walking with people on the way home (this blog’s name was definitely inspired by his work). I am sad his voice has left the earth but deeply glad that one day I very much hope to chat to him (however that whole new creation thing works). He wrote beautifully and I’ll leave you with a quote that started this blog off many years ago. A quote that always brings me back to the unseen world all around us and the beautiful details which draw me to be aware of it. Thank you Eugene.

“We wake up each morning in a world we did not make. How did it get here? How did we get here? We open our eyes and see the sun careen over the horizon. We wiggle our toes. A mocking bird takes off and improvises on themes set down by robins, vireos and wrens, and we marvel at the intricacies. The smell of frying bacon works its way into our nostrils and we begin anticipating buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee brewed from our favorite Javanese beans.

There is so much here- around, above, below, inside, outside. Even with the help of poets and scientists we can account for very little of it.

After a while we get used to it and quit noticing. Somewhere along the way this wide eyed looking around, this sheer untaught delight in what is here, reverses itself: the would contracts; we are reduced to a life of routine, through which we sleepwalk.

But not for long. Something always shows up to jar us awake, a child’s question, a fox’s sleek beauty, a sharp pain, a pastors sermon, a fresh metaphor, an artists vision, a slap in the face, scent from a crushed violet. We are again awake, alert, in wonder: how did this happen? And why this? Why anything at all? Why not nothing at all?

Gratitude is our spontaneous response to all this: to life. Something wells up within us: Thank you!”